


You Know Me

by melodious_rain



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dancing Lessons, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:26:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4632072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodious_rain/pseuds/melodious_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is where I shall put all my Stucky prompts, ficlets, and AU's.</p><p>Each chapter will be a standalone story (unless otherwise specified) and I will add to the tags as I add new stories. Each tag will correspond to a specific chapter (in order). </p><p>Requests for AU's or prompts can be left in the comments or on my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dorm Room Furnishings

**Author's Note:**

> Oooooookay... I have stolen AU ideas from tumblr and come up with my own... And I shall put ALL OF THEM here. They are in no particular order, with the exception of pacing and mood. I have a list. Will post as I write. Warnings for each ficlet will be specified in the notes.
> 
> Pre-serum!Steve and pre-wintersoldier!Bucky are college students starting their first year together and sharing a dorm room.
> 
> WARNINGS: Crude humor, pining, little bit of non-con vibes at the end.
> 
> Also, I based some of this (the humor and the shopping trip) on a day I spent with my cousin. So if your name is Brenden and you have a red haired cousin and you just started college recently, you are not allowed to read this. You hear me Brenden?! You will NOT read this! And if you do read it and bring it up, I will deny EVERYTHING.

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

"Alright, the online store says it will be in aisle D-48, whatever that means..."

"Well, we're in C now... Bucky... find the D."

Bucky stared at his friend incredulously for a moment before his words registered. He snickered, then closed his eyes and put his fingers to his temples. Sensing the D. Steve cracked up.

They eventually found the right aisle - "Ah, there's the D's, good job Buck." - and located the very big box that contained their prize.

"I can't lift that shit by myself, come here."

"But it's a _lamp_ and is shaped like an _ampersand_."

"We don't _need_ it."

Together the two of them hefted the large box onto the cart, and began wheeling their way to the front of the store.

"Bucky, I need your help. This is a two man job. I need at least one of your hands on this thing-- " Bucky snickered, "-- _or it will tip the cart over._ What are you, twelve?"

The line was long, and there were very few registers open. The boys griped about there being at least two dozen registers, but only three open. Suddenly a blonde girl swooped in and beckoned them - yes, specifically them - to her register, which she had just decided to open. Steve rolled his eyes skyward as she began chatting up Bucky, who indulged her by flirting back. Bucky was exceedingly charming when he wanted to be, a fact which Steve knew very well.

The words _He's gay_ were on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. It would be rude, awkward, and maybe... a little too telling. So Steve just grinned and threw in a sarcastic comment or two, and as he deposited the bags of miscellaneous stuff into the cart, he noticed the blonde turning her attention away from Bucky. Now _this_ was startling. Steve ducked his head and found his feet interesting for a moment before shooting a glance up at his friend. Bucky was leaning on the counter by the credit card machine, his own gaze lowered and his lips turned up a little at the corners. Steve noticed a muscle working in his jaw.

  
But the blonde cashier - Sharon, Steve noticed on her name tag - was asking him questions.

  
"Oh, yeah," Steve responded shyly, rummaging for his wallet. "We moved into the dorm yesterday. We _actually_ weren't supposed to move in until today, but **_somebody_ ** \-- " he pointedly glanced at Bucky, "-- decided to pretend his check in day was that day and get the people at the desk to give him the keys a day early."

  
Bucky had the decency to look ashamed. Everyone knew it was fake, though.

  
Sharon snickered. "That's pretty slick. Wish I had thought of that. Okay, your total today is 207.48."

  
Both boys concealed their flinches and rummaged in their wallets. They'd both known the price of their purchases, had saved up for it, and had the money. But neither of them had grown up well off, so big spending for each of them made them wince. Steve and Bucky each handed over a hundred dollar bill, then Bucky put the rest on his debit card. Sharon made it a point to smile while handing Steve the receipt and wished the boys a good evening.

  
The college boys rolled their cart up to the minivan Bucky's foster parents had loaned to him for the week. Bucky stood dumbly in front of the open car boot for a while, eyeing the contents. A few bags of stuff were still crammed into the back of it, having been deemed less-necessary to the moving in process.

  
"Well, what are you waiting for? Help me lift this," demanded Steve.

  
Bucky made a noise of protest. "No, we've got to like... prepare the car first." He gestured into the car with a wild flick of his wrist.

  
Steve bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Nah, it's fine, we can just shove it in there."

  
Bucky groaned.

  
"It'll fit!" Steve argued.

  
But Bucky figured he'd try to put the seats in the back down to give it more room. However, he didn't exactly _know_ how the seats worked, so he just sort of fiddled with one, then forcibly pushed and pulled the seat, trying to get it to give.

  
Steve was practically beside himself as he choked out another inappropriate joke: "You can jerk that around as much as you want, it's not gonna get this done!" He patted the box to drive the point home.

  
Bucky threw his hands in the air and came around to the back of the car, clearly stifling his reaction to Steve's crude humor. Together, they lifted the box and maneuvered it into the boot.

  
"Move your fingers, they're in the way."

  
"Oh my _god_ , Steve."

  
More sniggers and unsophisticated laughter filled the dark parking lot as they struggled to fit their purchase into the car. The boys managed to get the box more than halfway into the boot before Steve realized the junk in the back of it would have to be moved.

  
"Okay, you stay here and... brace it. I'm gonna move that stuff." Steve clamored into the backseat and leaned over in the small space to remove the obstacles.

  
Bucky could be seen grinning outside, holding up the box while patiently waiting. "Alright, I'm pushing it in. Are you ready?"

  
Steve sputtered and grappled for the rest of the crap in the way. "No, no, no, wait!"

  
"See, _this_ is why preparation is important." Bucky's grin was in danger of splitting his face in two.

  
"Yeah, keep talkin' shit and you'll have to find a new place to put it," Steve returned.

  
"Hey, what!" squawked Bucky. "It's my car!"

  
"Yeah, well I'm over here doin' all the work. You just get to stand there!"

  
"Hey, holding this massive thing up is work."

  
"Yeah, okay, let's switch places then."

  
"Ooh, now _that's_ something I can get behind." Bucky's teeth glinted malignly as he wiggled his eyebrows ridiculously.

  
"Oh my god, Buck," Steve sighed exasperatedly. Bucky's evil chuckle was the only response.

  
They finally managed to jam the box in - "Is it in yet, Buck?" - then stacked the rest of their purchases on top. Steve closed the hatch while Bucky stood with his hands on his hips and heaved a big, tired sigh. Then, he looked down at Steve and said, "Well, was it good for you?" with a completely straight face.

  
Steve doubled over laughing. Shoving each other playfully, the boys returned their cart and piled into the borrowed car.

  
"Hey, did we remember that stuff for Dum Dum and Gabe?" wondered Bucky as he flicked the turn signal on.

  
"Oh, umm..." Steve craned around as if looking into the trunk would reveal the verity of the items. He didn't _actually_ remember buying them. Worriedly, he checked over the receipt. "Yeah, here it is. Light bulbs, command strips, and a trashcan. And they owe us like, twenty dollars, or whatever." Steve didn't mind if he got paid back or not. Dum Dum and Gabe were good friends, and they'd do the same for him.

  
Ink had bled through the receipt near the bottom, and Steve's brow furrowed in confusion. Flipping it over, he discovered a phone number written in looping script with a sweet _"call me"_ and a smiley face beneath it. Steve's mind promptly went blank.

  
"Uhhhh...."

  
"What?" Bucky tried to glance at the paper while also keeping his eyes on the road.

  
"Ehh, this is probably for you!" Steve shoved the receipt under his friend's nose. It was the only logical explanation.

  
Bucky went cross-eyed looking at it, then promptly burst out laughing. "She gave _you_ the receipt, not me!"

  
"But that doesn't make any _sense!_ " Steve sputtered indignantly. The cashier had _clearly_ been interested in Bucky. She'd only talked to Steve as an afterthought. She had been trying to not be rude.

  
Bucky looked unexpectedly affronted. "Whaddaya talkin' about? She was totally chattin' you up!" Red lights flashed rhythmically over his profile. A train had brought traffic to a stop, and it rumbled loudly just ahead of them.

  
Steve tore his eyes away from his friend's jawline and watched the train instead. "She was obviously interested in you, Buck. She was just trying to be nice when she talked to me." He twiddled his thumbs absently in his lap.

  
Beside him, Bucky scoffed and presumably rolled his eyes. "You gotta give yourself more credit, Stevie." The train passed by and the barriers rose to allow traffic through, and he turned his attention back to the road.

  
Steve stayed silent to avoid giving too much away. He wanted to demand Bucky explain why he should give himself more credit. He wanted to hear complimentary things come from his best friend's lips. He wanted it to mean something. It was a selfish want, but all it would give him was empty hope. He'd given up a long time ago. It sucked to fall for a straight guy, but Steve would argue it was worse when someone swung your way but would never be interested.

  
Realizing the tension might give something away as well, Steve attempted to create some casual conversation.

  
"Did you get our textbooks?" he asked.

  
"Yep, sure did. I'll give you the thumb drive when we get back."

  
Steve knew Bucky had a friend with access to free digital copies of nearly every textbook known to man. Steve also knew it wasn't exactly _legal_ access, and that bothered him vastly, I assure you. However, he was barely squeaking by on a scholarship and could really afford to pinch as many pennies as he could. So Steve didn't question it, and Bucky acted like it was completely legal.

  
Plus, good art supplies was effing _expensive_.

  
"So I was thinkin' of logistics," Steve went on, changing the subject yet again.

  
"Yeah? Of?"

  
"The futon. Where are we gonna put it between terms?"

  
"We can drive it home, I guess? I heard we can't leave it here."

  
"Not unless we're giving it to somebody."

  
"Uh-uh, hundred and fifty dollars don't just fall from the sky. This is _our_ futon, and someone's gonna have to pry it from our cold dead fingers."

  
"Or, you know, we could just _sell_ it to someone."

  
"I like my mental image more, Steve."

  
"Okay, Bucky. Whatever you say."

  
Eventually they pulled into a parking spot in front of their building, the campus almost dead quiet. It was early, and not everyone was moving in yet, and classes didn't start for another week. The boys wrestled their loot into the elevator, then found the futon laying on the dorm-provided bucket cart wouldn't fit through the hallways.

  
Their RA happened by their struggle to hold it diagonally in order to fit through the door frame. Both boys halted their movements as if caught and looked over at the brunette senior watching them intently.

  
"Hi Peggy?" Steve tried to say with his face smooshed up against the frankly dirty cardboard box.

  
"Hello, Steve." The resident assistant's red lips pulled into a wry smile.

  
"Ma'am," came Bucky's muffled voice from the other side of the box, a single hand popping up and waving politely.

  
"Would you boy's like some help?" Peggy wondered in her lilting accent.

  
"No thanks," both students chorused, too prideful to ask for help.

  
Peggy smiled despite herself. "Well let me get the door for you at least."

  
Steve could allow that. "Sure, my key's in my jacket." The lanyard was in fact dangling from his left pocket.

  
Peggy took the key, reaching into Steve's pocket and drawing it out with a smile. Steve noticed she smelled like peppermint.

  
"Alright, hup!" Bucky snapped him back to attention, and together they shuffled their huge parcel down the hall and into their shared room that Peggy helpfully held open for them.

  
Their RA looked over their room with her hands on her hips, observing their lofted beds and smartly placed furniture. "Nice set up, gents. You even have a television," she noticed.

  
The boys shook out their shoulders, arms tired from their heavy lifting. Steve was almost certain he'd pulled something.

  
"Going to be entertaining?" Peggy nodded towards their package.

  
Bucky grinned. "Maybe! Let us know if you ever wanna bunk over." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  
Peggy pursed her lips and barely glanced at Bucky, instead looking at Steve. It was probably the safer option, anyway. "Well, you boys have a good night. And remember, there's a floor meeting tomorrow at 8 o'clock."

  
The boys voiced their confirmations and the RA left with the door clicking shut behind her. Bucky was laughing and shaking his head, while Steve just stared at the door incredulously.

  
"Sorry for your luck, buddy," Bucky began offhandedly, Steve whipping his gaze away from the door. "It's against the rules for residents to date RA's."

  
Steve watched Bucky's athletic figure crouch down to begin unpacking their prize. "Why would that matter?" Steve wondered after clearing his throat.

  
Bucky just raised an eyebrow and smirked at his friend. With a tilt of his head he inclined to the door, and by extension, Peggy who'd just left through it. Wordlessly Steve looked at the door, then back to his roommate and gave him a helpless look.

  
With a chuckle Bucky went on, "Tell you what, if I was into that, I'd be _into_ that, ya know?"

  
"I d-don't..." squeaked Steve. He quickly shook his head to clear it and cleared his throat again. "Oh, shut it Barnes." Steve grit his teeth when Bucky threw his head back and laughed loudly. He also resolutely did not look at the tendons that stood out of his neck, or his prominent collarbones, or his Adam's apple. Instead he elbowed Bucky out of the way so they could unpack their new futon.

  
Wrestling the futon from its cardboard confines proved more difficult than expected, but the two of them managed. Assembling it looked pretty straight forward, but neither of them bothered to look at the directions. They were manly men, and didn't need no stinkin' directions.

  
The Allen wrench was snatched from Steve's fingers.

  
"Ah, ah," admonished Bucky, "I'll handle the fine tinkering." Then he handed Steve one of the metal feet with a smile. "You grasp the shaft."

  
Steve sighed, and resigned himself to holding a cold metallic cylinder while his best friend made nonstop innuendos. "Fine, you play with the nuts."

  
" _Bolts_ ," Bucky corrected, holding one up in each hand. "But nice try." He held them between his thumbs and forefingers, and made a little twisting motion.

  
Steve groaned when he realized Bucky was mimicking the motion of tweaking someone's nipples.  
  
At one point, Steve was twisting in one of the tiny bolts, and Bucky remarked on how much he'd managed with just his fingers. The bolts still needed to be tightened by the Allen wrench.

  
"I'm pretty good with my fingers," commented Steve. "But, if you'll hand me that tool of yours, I can do much better." He gestured to the Allen wrench Bucky was still hording.

  
Bucky very nearly passed out from that one.

  
They got the rest of the feet put on - "Firmly grasp it, Steve, you keep letting it wiggle." - and set it upright. Setting it into a couch position and shoving it against the wall, they happily collapsed onto it.

  
"Mission accomplished," sighed Steve.

  
"Huzzah!" cried Bucky.

  
"What should we watch first on our new couch?"

  
"Well, I have Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter..."

  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you're talkin' marathon. It's like," Steve checked his watch, "9pm. I am not staying up to watch three movies with you."

  
"Awwwww," whined Bucky. He flopped over the couch dramatically, limbs spread haphazardly.

  
Steve ended up with a socked foot in his side. Rolling his eyes, he jabbed his friend in the ribs, right where he knew Bucky was ticklish.

  
His poor victim made a strangled choking noise and flinched off the couch. His foot remained where it was, though. Steve rolled his eyes heavenward when Bucky let out the most obnoxious whine from his position on the floor. "Watch a mooovvviiieee with meeeeeeee..."

  
"Oh my god."

  
"Just Fellowship!"

  
" _Yeah_ , uh-huh."

  
"You said yes! It counts!" Bucky sprang to his feet and dove for his laptop.

  
"I was being sarcastic!" Steve tried to argue. But Bucky was already hooking up the HDMI and turning on the TV. And somehow, by some magical unknown force, Steve ended up in pajamas on the new futon with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Bucky swears he didn't mean for the next one to play, but it was just on autoplay, which Steve was pretty sure wasn't a thing.

  
"I think I'll grow my hair out like Aragorn," proclaimed Bucky with a yawn.

  
"I'll grow mine out like Legolas," Steve retorted with an eye roll.

  
"Please don't," Bucky grimaced.

  
At some point, Steve curled up on his side and stared at the TV without really seeing it. He was sort of pondering how exactly he'd ended up with this as his life. He either fucked up really badly or everything was perfect with the exception of himself. Honestly, how many scrawny poor orphaned kids made it to college? How many lucky bastards had perfect best friends who would always be there for them? And here Steve was, bemoaning his own cowardice.

  
Steve remembered sitting in an art class in high school with Bucky beside him. Art was probably the only thing Bucky wasn't good at. One of the last few projects of the year was drawing a portrait of someone to get the basics of proportions and shading down. Steve had quickly began sketching Bucky, who was leaned over, concentrating on his own sketch of whatever girlfriend he was seeing at the time. Steve roughly sketched the general shape and proportions; an eye line, a hair line, jaw line... By the time he got to shading the details, he realized something. Steve was unknowingly worshiping every line he drew, agonizing over the slightest mistake. And when he began to draw Bucky's lips, Steve reflexively brushed his fingers against his own.

  
And then he showed Bucky the near-finished drawing, and his too-big heart thumped painfully in his chest. Because Bucky smiled and his eyes lit up like Steve had handed him the world. Steve felt his fingers itch with the need to draw that face, the one that was so unadulteratedly happy over such a small, humble thing. Steve remembered swallowing a lump in his throat and brushing the feeling off. They were friends, it was normal to have feelings like this.

  
And then they only got worse, to Steve's horror. He wanted Bucky's arm around his shoulders, for longer periods of time, in different contexts. He wanted to run his fingers through Bucky's hair, wanted to feel his long lashes against his cheek, wanted to feel Bucky's defined muscles twitch under his fair skin.

  
It was after an unexpectedly hormone-induced dream that Steve realized, _Well, hey, I might be a little bisexual._

  
It seemed like torture when Bucky offhandedly admitted to being a little into guys one day. And then as years went by, Bucky had decided girls just weren't for him at all. His best friend had embraced his wants and was happier for it.

  
Steve himself hadn't even admitted it to his best friend. Because, Steve reasoned, that one admission would lead to a slew of deductive reasoning. Bucky was a bit of a dork, but he was ridiculously smart. He would look back and realize that Steve had looked at him a little too long that one time, been a little too eager to stand close that other time, and then Bucky would leave. He wouldn't do it unkindly, of course. He would pull away, figuring Steve needed distance to get over his little crush. And then he might find someone more interesting, or someone he was interested in, and just drift away.

  
Steve wouldn't be able to handle it. It might break him. He wasn't sure, and he didn't want to try. As prideful and stubborn Steven Grant Rogers was, as much as he swore he didn't need people to like him and didn't care what people thought of him... Well, Bucky Barnes was the only damn exception on the planet. So there.

  
Steve ended up dozing off somewhere between the three hunters tracking the Uruk-hai and the Ent council, but doze off he did. He was one of those expert sleepers who could fall asleep in the span of a few minutes, much to Bucky's insomniac irritation. Around the beginning of the third movie he dropped into a deep sleep and into a bittersweet dream.

  
Fingers carded through his hair, brushing lightly against his scalp. A finger stroked behind his sensitive ear, sending a hot shiver down his spine. Lips parted in sleep, Steve turned over and pressed his hips into the cushion of the couch with a breathy groan.

  
Fogged in the realm of sleep, Steve could hear a hiss as if someone where in pain and a low, familiar voice whisper, "Fuck," in a quiet oath. Mumbling in his sleep, Steve nuzzled further into the cushions of the new futon and slept til morning.


	2. Turn up the Radio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tries to teach Steve how to dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post a different one before this, but that one isn't done and this one is so... Here you go!   
> I've been wanting to bounce points of view around, and this was supposed to be my (3rd chapter) experiment with omnipotent 3rd person. So... Bucky's point of view next chapter (?)

* * *

* * *

 

 

**4F**

The ink glared back hatefully from the page, daring him to wonder why they would have done any different. Twenty-four year old Steve Rogers had never hated himself as deeply as he had then, standing in a putrid alley somewhere between Flushing and Grand. His bag seemed to weigh ten pounds heavier, as if the boxing gloves within were mocking his frail shoulders.

Bucky remembered his registration process well enough. He remembered the words on the tip of his tongue, the words that would make the processor look up at him from beneath a judgmental brow, and stamp him with a 1W. He thought of what Steve would think. What he would say. The look he would give Bucky when he admitted the horrible truth: _I don't want to be a soldier._ He wished he had claim to his siblings as dependants, but his deadbeat uncle prevented that. So no 3A for him. When he held his slip of paper with 1H stamped on it, he tried to be relieved. It could have been higher.

But it wasn't low enough.

Steve found Bucky sitting on his stoop, paperwork clenched in his white-knuckled fist. Selective Service letters of registration, describing one James Buchanan Barnes: five foot and eleven inches, one hundred and fifty pounds, gray eyed and black haired with a light complexion... And an Order to Report for Induction. Bucky sensed Steve's approach and tipped his chin up. He knew his friend had been deferred due to his health, from the look on his face and the slump in his shoulders. And he really wasn't all that surprised.

But Bucky forced a smile and asked anyway, "So how'd it go, chump?"

Steve watched his lifelong best friend stand and brush the dirt from the seat of his trousers with a droll look. "You know how it went. What are you doing here?" Steve was in a piss poor humour, and not in the mood for entertaining. However, he had seen the letter in Bucky's hand, and gestured towards it. "That what I think it is?"

"Well," Bucky began dryly, "if you think it's a winning lotto ticket, you'd be wrong. Also not a cheque for a thousand dollars." He moved out of the way to let Steve unlock the door.

Steve let the two of them in and dropped his gym bag by the door. While Bucky was hanging up his jacket, Steve went into the kitchen. "I hope you don't expect me to feed you," he threw over his shoulder to Bucky, who was flopping onto Steve's ancient junk-yard-scavenged sofa.

"I got a raise, I'll pay you back," Bucky called back.

"Yeah, when will I see that money, Barnes?"

"Punk."

They were beating around the bush. Steve was deferred enlistment and had complete and utter bupkis in his pantry. Bucky had been pulled for the draft and would have to quit his job at the docks soon. But neither of them were talking about it. It hung in the air between them, filled the room like smog. The other to each of them was as obvious as a neon sign, so really they didn't _need_ to say anything. They both knew.

Steve was clenching his fist as he hovered in the barren kitchen. He didn't hear Bucky get up and move to the radio on the mantle, too muddled up in his own thoughts, until it sputtered on. Bucky found a station playing an upbeat jazz song and let it fill the room.

Steve's radio was old as sin, a relic from his mother's house Bucky had more or less forced him to keep. Steve still wanted to sell it, while Bucky would argue vehemently that people could barely afford to buy milk, why would they waste money on a radio?

Steve wondered with a sinking stomach if he could get away with selling it after Bucky shipped out...

He wanted to vomit.

A tap on his shoulder pulled him back to the present. Whirling around and looking up at his friend only sent his stomach tilting and whirling like he'd just got off the Cyclone on Coney Island. Bucky's soft gray eyes took in his friend's pale face and began tugging at his shirtsleeve, pulling him away from the kitchen counter.

"What are you doing?" Steve wondered, really not in the mood for whatever Bucky had planned.

"I had an idea," Bucky responded while pulling them into the small expanse of open floor in front of the couch. "I'm gonna teach you how to dance."

Steve rose an eyebrow, his stomach doing a nervous flip. "You know I can't dance." It was more than that. Steve had two left feet. He was a regular dead hoofer. Utterly hopeless at dancing. A lost cause.

"Yeah, well let's give it a shot. Hear, listen to the beat of this one." The new song was a faster rhythm with an invigorating beat. Steve recognized it as a popular dance song at the clubs Bucky often took his dates to. The clarinet soloist stood out against the rest of the band. "And you've just gotta keep your feet moving. Walk in place, hop around like a maniac, whatever, just as the basics." Bucky backed away and ducked his head, shoulders rolling forward as he danced to the beat, snapping his fingers in time with the rhythm.

Bucky's current girl was a real jitterbugging cat, and so, in order to impress the pretty dame, Bucky had taken up learning a lot of popular dances. Steve had found his friend collapsed on the sofa once, completely exhausted, panting hard and sweating through his shirt and the only explanation he'd been given was: "Lindy hop."

Steve had to fight a smile at the sight of Bucky in his dingy white shirt and suspenders dancing around his living room like an idiot. "That girl really has had some kinda impression on you," Steve pointed out wryly.

Bucky shrugged and grinned, pausing in his dancing to put his hands on his hips. "She's got nice gams." Bucky may or may not actually be the devil in human skin. That roguish grin could tempt the most holy of people to sin. Bucky unceremoniously took Steve's left hand in his own and put his right hand on Steve's shoulder blade, pulling Steve's small body closer to him.

"Alright, try to keep up," Bucky told him with a grin as a rendition of _In the Mood_ began on the radio.

Steve stumbled through being swung in a circle, tripping over his own feet. Red-faced and embarrassed, Steve pled with his friend beseechingly, "Come on, Buck, you know I can't do this!"

Bucky only snickered at his plight. "Watch those stompers," he cautioned Steve, barely dodging his friend's shoes. Steve muttered a low oath under his breath, ducking his head down to stare at his clumsy feet while Bucky laughed at him.

"Here, watch my feet," Bucky coached. "You don't gotta do that crazy spinning, flipping, jumping stuff you see in films, just move your feet like this!" Bucky tried to demonstrate, and when Steve tried to copy it, Bucky about fell out laughing so hard.

Eventually Steve laughed along with him, because really how ridiculous was this? Here they were, two grown ass (?) men dancing around Steve's dingy apartment to the radio. Bucky was twirling Steve around like a dame and Steve was stumbling over his own two feet, but it was _fun._ This wasn't being deferred by the army, or drafted by it; it wasn't scraping together enough pennies for dinner, it wasn't getting jumped in some back alley. Steve couldn't help be feel lighter, like the burdens of the world had become a bit more intangible.

Bucky's laughter was infectious, and his smile could launch a thousand ships. At one point the indomitable James Barnes managed to trip, and Steve nearly gave himself an asthma attack laughing so damn hard.

Bucky stayed over that night, and they kept the radio on through cooking some haphazard colcannon from potatoes and wilted cabbage and danced some more after dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that was historically inaccurate as heckie... But I tried to research it. And I'm totally into the idea that Bucky can swing dance.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, let me know what you think in the comments. :)
> 
> Don't worry, I'm probably writing another one. ;D


End file.
